


Ecstasies in Which They Forget to Kiss

by omundovaigirando



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, Infidelity, M/M, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 10:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omundovaigirando/pseuds/omundovaigirando
Summary: Marius loves Cosette. Cosette loves Marius.But that's hard to remember when Courfeyrac and Éponine are around.





	Ecstasies in Which They Forget to Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> _What have I done, sweet Jesus, what have I done?_  
>  I was sitting down to continue _And if we only die once_ (my OTP poetry series), but then this happened.

Marius loved Cosette. Her beautiful hair, how her eyes would twinkle before she opened her mouth to tell frankly ridiculous but adorable jokes, the way she responded to his flailing and flubbing with only a patient smile and a rephrasing of her question.

Her interest in listening to his ramblings of his father—any man would either fall asleep at his views or murder him for them, but not Cosette. Her eyes were alert as he spoke, and if she concealed a yawn, it was only because Marius had kept her up for far too long.

How much she cared about her father. Though Marius was frankly terrified of M. Leblanc—no,  _ Fauchelevent, _ he admired Cosette for her almost motherly fussing about him.

 

Cosette loved Marius. His tendency to stare, the way he put her head on his breast and petted her hair, how he murmured to her in German and English, and blushingly confessed he was calling her every endearment he knew.

The way he let her speak without talking over her. Petit-Picpus, despite being a convent, had been rather chaotic: every girl fought to be heard, and she hadn't been able to voice her opinions on most things. Marius was a welcome change from such restriction.

How charitable he was. He once told her how he hadn't eaten the entire day because he had paid his neighbours’ rent with the little money he had.

 

It was easy to forget these truths, however, when every evening, after he gently pressed his lips to the top of her head and announced his sadness at having to leave her for such a mundane thing as sleep, Marius came home to Courfeyrac ripping his clothes off, or sometimes not even at all, and slotting their aching hardnesses together until Marius was gasping Courfeyrac's name with every thrust.

(“You have come to sleep with me?” Courfeyrac had said at the start. Then he had grinned devilishly, pulled Marius down, and whispered in his ear, “I don't think we'll be doing a lot of sleeping.”)

 

Cosette forgot easily too, when, if her father had no  _ errands _ for her to run, Éponine hurried to the Rue Plumet, entered the gate that Cosette always conveniently  _ forgot _ to lock after Toussaint had retired for the night, and pressed her against the wall without so much as a proper hello or a curtsey. As Éponine brought her lips to her throat, and then further down, she found she could not remember what Marius had told her were the English words for  _ mon seul amour pour toujours et à jamais. _ And when it was not Marius’ declarations of love but the pleasure of Éponine's fingers that took over her every thought, Cosette only moaned and returned the favour.

 

After it was over, the dread always haunted them the next morning, but as the routine of pure love and then carnal desire continued night after night, the blush that remained on their cheeks was no longer from the shame of the previous night, but the giddy anticipation of the next.


End file.
